ceres_libera | Switch 26/50

Title: "Switch" (26/50)
Author:

ceres_libera
Rating: R to NC-17
Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.
Canon: Based in the ST:XI universe, but strongly influenced by all canon ST-verses.
Characters: McCoy/Kirk, with eventual appearances by all other ST:XI characters.
Notes: So, believe it or not, there's only four, maybe five parts of this story left. The end is actually in sight! The slow ~~torture~~ burn continues, but not for that much longer!

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2156.41

I never thought I'd travel into space. People call it the black and that's how I always pictured it, but that doesn’t even begin to describe it, because it's something else beside. It feels alive up here in a way that I had not imagined, somehow verdant, even though that's not the right term for it. It shines. There is light and color arcing through the darkness that is beyond black whenever we pass by a star or a planet. I think the color is made all the more rich by the contrast …

.. We’re bunked eight in a room not much bigger than a horse’s stall, stacked up one atop another. The lowest man’s bunk is on the floor, and the rest of us have less than a meter of air space separating us. It’s pitch black in the room at night – that's the real black, the bunkhouse. More than once, I’ve been awakened to the sound of muffled weeping. I’m pretty sure it’s Jenkins – he was too young to have signed up, even though he’s only a bit younger than me. He got caught up by the same fervor that caught us all up before we signed – the need to protect our planet, our home. Most of them didn't give much of a thought to what it meant to sign up, the real distances we'd be traveling, how far from home and anything we've known we'd be, and even though I did, it's so much more vast and awe-inspiring than I could have imagined …

It’s been hard on a bunch of the guys and gals, and I don’t mean space sickness, although if I never see (or smell) another full barf bag, that’ll be a blessing. Lewis told me the other day – well, what passes for day up here where it's always night – that he’s no longer sure if God exists, and he's not the only one who feels like that. In a way, I understand what he means. That cozy God, the one that Mrs. Taylor was always talking about in Sunday school, the old man with the white hair and the beard, sitting on a cloud with a benign expression on his face, isn’t up here in the black. God is so much bigger than I’d ever imagined, because when I stand on the observation deck and look at everything I can see, it’s only a tiny piece of the universe. It sounds stupid to say it but infinity is so much more infinite than I ever thought. I think I understand now, why in those old Earth myths the mortals went crazy when they learned the truths that only the Gods knew. I think that's what's happening to Lewis and some of the others.

And the weird thing is that I feel exactly the opposite. I keep trying to explain to Lewis that being up here makes me surer of a God than I've ever been in my life, but they just aren't hearing me. I think they've all just realized that some of us, maybe all of us, will never see Earth again. And they’re right. Maybe no one will ever read these words, maybe they’ll burn and become incorporated in some star that will be born millennia from now, which sounds sad and lonely, but meaningful at the same time. But since they can't appreciate that, I tell them that I think about how beautiful our planet was when we could see it from space, all the blues and green of the swirling waters, and the brown land. I'd seen the holos before, but the reality was so staggering. I know that our Earth is just one planet among many, and maybe there are other more beautiful worlds out there, but it's home. And when I think about home, really think about it, I’m not thinking about that beautiful blue ball. I’m thinking about Susannah on the porch swing, laughing as she rocks back and forth, of finally convincing her of what we both know is true – that she loves me as much as I love her. Or I think of riding in the woods and the new foals finding their legs, of spring. I don’t need to understand the infinite – that’s God’s job. I just need to appreciate the finite and marvel at all else that’s around me while I have this chance. And if I die up here, well, I’m no less safe up here than I was down on the planet, because none of us are ever really safe. Lightning strikes, the ground splits itself open, idiots bomb cities with nuclear weapons. Shit happens, my grandfather used to say, and it's true. If we were back down on the ground somewhere, we'd just be waiting while the Romulans advance on us for war. I'd rather be up here, trying to keep them from getting to the planet.

And I keep telling Lewis that if he believes in God, then he should remember 'God only helps those who help themselves,' but it’s like he can’t hear me over his own fear. God knows, and I write that with irony, that I’m scared shitless, but I’ve got to do it. And maybe I’ve been afraid of the wrong things all along, anyway. If I get back there, I’m not waiting any longer, Susannah. I've tried waiting, and talking you into reality, but this time, I think I'll just kiss you until you can't deny it anymore.

Leo marked his place in the second volume of Horatio's journal and closed his eyes. He'd thought a lot about bravery these past few weeks, about how Jim had allowed him to be present while he confronted his fear, while he conducted what was a private ritual, a kind of exorcism. Jim's bravery had never been in question for Leo – he knew that Jim's bravado was a cover for the heart of a lion, the kind of warrior heart that could take the adrenaline of a fight, and use it for fuel, not paralysis. He could do something similar in emergencies, focus on the patient and do what needed to be done, but he hadn't applied it to other aspects of his life, hadn't thought to.

He ran his finger down the spine of the leather-bound book and reached over for his drink on the nightstand. He hadn't been able to move on in this journal, found himself reading these passages over and over again, to the point where he practically had the words memorized. Part of it, he supposed, was the chance to hear Horatio's voice again by reading his words, but mostly, he found himself comforted by how Horatio had experienced the black. He knew, in the rational part of himself that prevailed most times, that the chances of dying in interplanetary space travel were probably comparable to dying in any kind of mechanized conveyance, but there had always been something about the idea of the void of space, the vacuum itself, with no air, no light, that scared the shit out of Leo. It was, in many ways, the fear of the infinite itself, as Horatio had written in his journal.

He laid the book on the nightstand gently. It hadn't been until he'd watched Jim's sim of the Kelvin destruction that he'd really allowed himself to think about what it would actually mean, being out there, sailing the stars. Jim had unwittingly given him a gift that night, even if that hadn't been his intention. He'd allowed Leo to witness him confronting one of his longest-lived fears, to penetrate the veil of secrecy that had been drawn over the events surrounding his birth, and his father's death. And even without all of the available information, Jim had drawn some kind of peace from what he'd seen. It was as if his father had somehow become more real to him, as if recreating the last actions of George Kirk's life had made Jim understand his father on some primal level beyond the platitudes of sacrifice and bravery that had always been used to describe his actions on that day.

It wouldn't be the same for Leo. There was no program he could write to confront his fears. He'd done his zero-grav training, been forced to space dive in a high-pressure suit, and none of those things had broken the block of ice that the idea of the void created in his gut. It was probably because he knew that he was still on Earth, that when he stepped outside the chamber, or ripped off his helmet, that the long gasping breaths that filled his lungs would be filled with air from his own planet. When he's out there in the void, in the unknown, he wouldn't have that option, and the idea of that, of choking in the vacuum if there was some sort of disaster, terrified him.

But Horatio's words ... Horatio's words soothed and intrigued him. He'd never actually contemplated that the void of space could be beautiful. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard others describe it that way, but these were Horatio's words, Horatio's feelings, and there was a kinship between the two of them that went beyond blood. Reading Horatio's words about space had made him actually long to see what Horatio had seen, to feel the curiosity that any good scientist should feel about new worlds, to see beyond all the potential negatives for the possibility of something that he'd never actively contemplated: wonder.

But he was never going to experience that wonder if he couldn't get beyond the fear.

All along, he'd been acting as if Jim were the damaged one, the broken and reckless one, and like he was the healer, the one with the answers, and the cure. But Jim had humbled him with his program, with the true depths of his courage. Jim knew that if he intended to be in command, that if he intended to take his place in the ranks of the Captains of Starfleet like his father and his grandfather, then he needed to understand how he'd be judged, what he'd be judged against, even though learning it, seeing what his father had done to save his life had positively gutted him. He'd shouldered the burden and taken the knowledge in and let it become a part of him. And Jim's bravery had made Leo realize that maybe he'd been broken for a long time, and that what he feared most was not being able to fix things, not being able to control things. And that if he wanted to be up there in the black with Jim someday, then he'd better learn how to fucking deal.

He raised his glass in a toast to Horatio, to himself, and to irony. "Physician," he said aloud, "heal thyself."

And then he began planning.

+

Leo ground his teeth a little in agitation before he smoothed his uniform tunic down and rapped on the door sharply, twice.

"Come," the voice said.

"Captain," Leo said, stepping through the door and into Pike's office. He'd never actually seen it before, and he had to admit that he was somewhat curious to see what Pike surrounded himself with when not aboard a starship. Not much distinguished the room from any other utilitarian office, although Leo was surprised that it wasn't larger. Still, there were touches here and there that spoke to Pike's personality. A blanket with what looked like a Native American pattern hung over the couch, echoing a cheerfully colored rug on the floor. A chess set of thoroughly modern design stood between two chairs next to the window, and the shade was up, letting all of the spring light into the office and raining down on the various potted cactuses on the sill.

"Lieutenant," Pike said with heavy emphasis.

Leo scowled.

"And," Pike said, "so I see that the stories I've been told about your ingratitude," Pike uttered the word as if imitating someone, "in regard to your rather unprecedented advancement are at least to some degree true."

Leo felt his hackles rising as he defiantly shot his cuffs, still stripe-free. "And?" he asked.

"Don't be an ass, McCoy," Pike said, utterly unperturbed. He waved Leo into a chair. "Talk to me."

"I'm not sure what I should say," Leo grumbled.

"How about the truth?"

"Permission to speak freely," Leo asked.

"I already asked for the truth, McCoy, stop dodging," Pike said. He sat back in his chair.

"Why the hell do you care?" Leo asked. It wasn't like he'd seen Pike since Riverside, and fuck, even if he had commed the man when Jim needed him, that was about the extent of their interaction. He pointed at the chess board, knowing full well that the game in progress was between him and Jim. "It's not like we've kept in touch."

"You jealous, McCoy?" Pike said blandly. "You want to start a poker night?"

"The 'don't be an ass' thing cuts both ways, sir," Leo said. "I'm not in your track, so I can't really see what my wanting to reject a promotion I didn't ask for-"

Pike held up a hand. "Are you under some misapprehension that we ask for promotion here in Starfleet? Because I'll tell you, that's never been my experience. They're earned, and in your case, the Admiralty believes that you've earned your stripe for creating a viable treatment for Capellan Hemorrhagic Fever."

"Did the Andorian members of the Admiralty agree with that, Captain?" Leo asked in a sharp tone.

Pike stared at him, then leaned slightly to his left. Leo heard the whoosh of a something opening, and then Pike came up with a bottle of Scotch. He turned and hooked two glasses off the credenza behind him.

"Does it matter?" Pike asked. "If they thought that what you'd done in finding and creating a cure outweighed the life of one of their people, would it change the way you feel at all?" He'd been pouring the whole time he was talking, but he looked up at Leo as he said the last phrase. He handed Leo a drink.

Leo shook his head. "No," he said hoarsely.

Pike held his drink up, and Leo thought he was going to make a toast and frowned. He might have made his point, but Leo was far from easy over the whole situation.

"These stripes," Pike said, and Leo realized that Pike was referring to his Captain's ranking, the thick-thin-thick stripes at the end of his sleeve. "What do you see when you look at them?"

Leo shrugged, "Captain," he said.

Pike's mouth was twisted in a sad smile. "I see every fucking mistake I ever made in command, McCoy," he said, taking a swallow of his drink. "I see the names, I see the faces of everyone who ever died because I wasn't fast enough, or smart enough, or because I was an arrogant ass who thought I knew best." He looked up at McCoy. "That's the reality of those stripes, Lieutenant. And anyone who tells you otherwise is either a liar or a damned fool. And trust me, you don't want to serve under either."

Leo stared at the man. "How do you deal with it?"

"You've lost patients before, McCoy," Pike said brusquely, but his voice was not unkind. "I'm sure that there were those that you know that you could have saved if you'd only done one or two things differently."

"La'an wasn't a patient," Leo said sharply. "He was a technician. It was my responsibility to make sure that he'd done his job …"

"It was his responsibility to make sure that he'd done his job," Pike interrupted. "It was your responsibility to ensure that he was the right person for the job in the first place."

Leo stared at Pike's unflinching face. "Yeah," he said after a minute.

"That's how you deal with it, McCoy," Pike said. "Acknowledging your true mistake and accounting for your weaknesses so that the next time you won't fuck up. You honor those that you've lost by becoming a better, a smarter commander." This time Pike did hold up his glass. "Welcome to command, Lieutenant McCoy."

Leo tilted his glass at Pike, but his mouth was still compressed into a thin line when he went to take a drink.

"That was better, by the way," Pike observed. "The flinch was much less noticeable."

Leo restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"Now," Pike said, "back to your earlier question of 'why do I care'. I care because I recruited you."

"I know," Leo said.

"No, you really don't," Pike said. "Tell me, McCoy, what do you think of most of your colleagues?"

Leo stared at Pike, considering his answer. "In my class, or at 'fleet Medical?"

"Both," Pike said.

"I think that most of them should go work at an ER," he said bluntly. "A real slaughterhouse, like New York, Moscow or Rio. Someplace where they'd have to react and improvise, actually work through real traumas, day in, day out."

Pike smiled. "My former CMO would agree with you," he said, "although he'd express his opinion more vigorously."

Leo raised an eyebrow.

"Phillip Boyce," Pike said. "He's coming back to campus in July, and oh, it's going to be a thing of beauty. Most of the docs hate his guts, and this time, he's coming back as their boss. My only regret is that you won't get a chance to spend much more than a year with him before you go out there," he added. "Really that you won't get the chance to serve with him as your CMO. The two of you," Pike smiled again, "are going to get on like a house on fire."

"I'm going out there next year?" Leo said.

Pike fixed him with a withering stare. "Don't patronize me, McCoy," he said. "I'm well aware of what you've done over the nearly two years you've been here – and you're on pace to get out next June, with Kirk, just as he planned." He narrowed his eyes at Leo. "Or just as you planned."

"You have been paying attention," Leo drawled.

"Maybe you should be," Pike shot back. "Do you know why you got the stripe, McCoy?"

"Honestly, I haven't a fucking clue," Leo said. "Because cure or not, most of the command staff over at 'fleet Medical wanted to throw my ass out."

"I'm well aware of that, Lieutenant," Pike said in a voice dry as dust. "But they're not taking into account that you provided the Federation with an incredible negotiating tool. The Farragut's been called back to take the diplomatic corps to the Capellan system," he said. "It's going to be a short mission, a one-off that will coincide with the summer break."

Leo stared at Pike. "They're going to barter the cure for the mining rights?"

"Topaline, dilithium, God knows what else."

Leo nodded. "So I guess that having a cure discovered by a mere Cadet …"

"Wouldn't seem quite as impressive to a status-conscious society," Pike said.

"Did Jim tell you that was my strategy?" Leo asked. "Not the status bullshit, but the barter."

"He did tell me," Pike said, "when I suggested that he apply for a post on the Farragut. Captain Garrovick is going to take on new hands and use the mission as a training run for promising Cadets. He disclosed that fact then. Surprisingly," Pike said sarcastically, "it was your Medical Ethics prof who suggested this fantastic new negotiation strategy."

"I'm sure he gave me credit," Leo said drily.

Pike held up the bottle. "That's why you have the stripe, McCoy," he said, filling up Leo's glass. His eyes were angry.

Leo nodded in acknowledgment, wondering how much Pike had had to do with his promotion.

"So," Pike said, in a tone that indicated that he was changing the subject. "How do you think Kirk is doing?"

Leo laughed. "How do you think he's doing?"

"I think he's doing pretty damned good," Pike said, "and I'm not talking about the firsts I expect him to take." He swiveled in his office chair and looked at the chess board. "He's more mature. He seems more grounded." He swung around and looked at Leo. "And you seem less weighed down." He paused. "Coincidence?"

Leo couldn't help the wry smile that broke out even as he shook his head at Pike's words. "I'm not sure what you're implying, Captain," he said, although he most certainly did: he was like the earth below the sky that was Jim, and somewhere between them lay the balance.

"Hmph," Pike said, but in such a way that Leo knew that Pike wasn't at all fooled by his words. "What you said earlier about your colleagues in Medical? That's exactly why I recruited you, Lieutenant, for that hard-headed pragmatism, combined with your experience." He looked at Leo. "Despite all of your degrees, it's that quality that distinguished you then. It's that quality that will make you the officer that you're meant to be."

"Yes, sir," Leo said.

"Don't fuck it up, McCoy," Pike said bluntly. "You do what you're planning to do – you take your firsts, and you keep building your resume the way you have, and I will do everything I can to get you on the Enterprise when we go on our shakedown in June of next year."

Leo tried to school his features, but he nodded. "Every active Medical officer is going to want to be on that ship, Captain," he said.

"And I can only do so much," Pike said. "Which is why you cannot fuck up again. Be the pragmatist you are. Put your stripe on."

"And Jim?" Leo asked.

Pike shook his head. "Every ambitious Captain in Starfleet is going to want the Federation hero's son on his crew," he said. "Even though most of them wouldn't know what the hell to do with him. Garrovick's a good man," he continued, "and a good Captain. He'll see Jim's real potential. After this summer, he's the one that's going to fight me the hardest for Jim. All I can tell you is that if I have my way, you'll both be on the flagship with me." He paused. "No promises, McCoy. For either of you."

Leo recognized a dismissal when he heard it, and he straightened his jacket, and put his glass down on Pike's desk. "Thank you for your time, Captain," he said.

"You're welcome," Pike said. "Remember what I said. Starfleet needs you to be the clear-eyed realist that you can be. Do not let them drum it out of you."

"No worries there, Captain," Leo said, standing. "It was bred into the bone."

Pike smiled. "Good choice of nicknames, then, huh?"

Leo smiled.

"Dismissed," Pike said.

He saluted and made his way to the door.

"Lieutenant," Pike said.

He turned, forcing himself to keep his eyebrow in its normal position.

"You're organizing an astrophobics conference?" Pike asked, holding up a PADD.

"This summer," Leo answered.

Pike raised both eyebrows at him.

"You want me on that boat next June?" Leo drawled out. "That is the pragmatic way to get me there."

Pike rolled his eyes. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

Leo wasn't at all surprised to find Jim waiting for him on the steps of the Command building.

"So?" he asked, doing that thing where he radiated tension while being completely still.

"So I'm a Lieutenant," Leo said curtly. "Goddamnit, I need a drink."

Jim leaned in a little closer and took a breath in, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that, Bones?"

"Drinking with your buddy Pike doesn't count," Leo growled.

Jim smiled, blue eyes dancing. "He's not my buddy," he said, slinging an arm around Leo's neck. "Lieutenant."

"Quiet," Leo snapped. "Or I might start ordering you around."

Jim laughed at him, ruffling his hair. "Oh, live it up while you have the chance, Bones. I'll outrank you soon enough."

"Fuck you," Leo said. "You competitive infant."

"You love me," Jim said.

Leo stared at him.

"You do," Jim said surely.

"You're buying," Leo ordered.

"Aye aye, Lieutenant," Jim said cheerfully.

"And we're going to a bar I like," Leo continued.

"Anything you want, Bones," Jim answered.

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, although Jim was whistling lightly as they did so. Leo's mind was whirling with everything Pike had said to him, all that he had to accomplish in less than fifteen months. Without discussing it, they turned onto one of the cross-campus paths that would take them to a transport center and on to downtown San Francisco. All around them, the good and righteous boy and girl Cadets were headed to dinner, or their evening sections.

"Jim," Leo said, "I want you to take me flying."

Jim stopped so suddenly that Leo stepped out from under his arm. He stopped and turned to find Jim staring at him. His expression went from incredulous to thoughtful as he looked at Leo. "You're serious," he said slowly.

"Yeah," Leo said, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. "I gotta …" he began. "I need to …"

"I get it, Bones," Jim said easily, but there was no mocking in his tone. He stepped up to Leo and put both hands on his shoulders, looking Leo in the eye. "I'll do whatever you need," he said, blue eyes earnest and his voice like a pledge. When Leo nodded, he slapped him on the back and steered them toward the transport station.

"Wow," Jim said, a moment later. "Wow, Bones."

Leo turned his head to look at his friend. "Just remember," he said. "I might throw up on you."

Jim threw back his head and laughed.

+

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From:

http://users.livejournal.com/_faded_fallen/

:D

Yes, I still love this fic. Don't have much attention span to note all the wonderful things down, but your Pike is just perfectly cutting and cunning, and giving Horatio McCoy a voice of his own worked really well. The description of space and old-timey spaceships were quite intriguing.

I am looking forward to Bones and Jim in flight~.

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